


Material Vows

by providentialeyes



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Come Eating, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Dysphoria, FFF I FORGOT A SUMMARY, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Felching, First Time, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Idiots in Love, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Mentions of exhibitionism, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, THAT'S THE BITCH, Undressing, Unsafe Sex, as a father figure in this, creampie eating?, i cant fucking remember what its called but eating out someone after coming inside them, jfc alright here we go, john is bossy but when is he not, jsyk, non binary john marston, service top arthur, they absolutely don't view dutch, whoops, y'all idfk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 13:51:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19702672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/providentialeyes/pseuds/providentialeyes
Summary: “What is this, John?”“What, not interested in fuckin’ your wife?” John whispers teasingly but Arthur can see the anxiety in the younger’s eyes.Arthur swallows and glances down to his ring,Mary’sring, on John’s finger.“That what you wanna be? My wife?”





	Material Vows

**Author's Note:**

> good god okay lots of prefaces  
> nb john as tagged, cunt, clit and chest are used re john's parts  
> other than right at the beginning dysphoria in this isn't explicit i don't think and more of just a vague oppressive force but arthur's pretty proactive and like Aware in his attempts to avoid anything that could make john dysphoric  
> i started this back in may and just finished it so heyo continuity of tone  
> there's also a couple of mentioned instances of unwanted advances and in general random dudes being creepy 
> 
> also wanna make it clear that this isn't john going back to 'being a woman' it's john going back to _'acting_ like a woman'

John turns over in the small tent to face the older man’s sleeping form.

Sleeping, but not resting.

Arthur’s fingers are twitching down by his hip, his eyes moving behind closed lids.

His jaw clenched and brows furrowed.

But it was the small, broken noises escaping from the older man that woke John.

John unwraps his blanket and shifts across the gap to kneel by the older man and settle his hand on Arthur’s sternum firmly.

“Arthur?” John mumbles tiredly.

Arthur twitches in his sleep before the older man’s eyes open slowly and look around.

John raises a brow at the heat lurking beneath sleepiness.

“You were havin’ a nightmare?” John asks, but he has a sneaking suspicion building in him.

Arthur’s hands clench and relax before the older man crosses his arms over his chest, displacing John’s hand.

“Art?”

“M’fine, John,” The older man mutters.

John’s fingers curl as he hesitates, scanning Arthur’s face, and then glancing down the older man’s body.

He can see the outline of Arthur’s cock in the older man’s drawers.

He looks back up to find Arthur watching him intently, face beginning to flush.

“You want me to leave?” John asks, throat tight.

“Nah, you don’t gotta…” Arthur mumbles and brings up a hand to rub at his own eyes.

There are a few minutes of silence between them as they both wake up.

It’s past dawn, based on the dim light in the tent, but they’re on the way back to camp from turning in a bounty and, therefore, not in a hurry.

John rolls his neck to crack it and shifts to sit on his ass next to Arthur’s hip.

“Who were you dreamin’ ‘bout?” John asks through a yawn.

Arthur glances up at him from under his hand.

“What?” John asks at the sharp look aimed at him.

“Why?”

“Was it Abigail?”

Arthur snorts and shakes his head while stretching his arms up towards the top of the ceiling.

"Weren't anyone in particular,” Arthur admits.

“Oh.”

John flexes his toes to stretch his legs and tries to be subtle when he glances down Arthur’s body again.

There’s a click in his throat when he swallows hard and moves his eyes back up quickly.

Arthur’s head is tilted and he’s watching John sleepily.

“What’re you thinkin’?” Arthur whispers.

“I… Uh,” John murmurs.

“Talk to me, John.”

“You know I’m jealous, sometimes?”

Arthur’s brows furrow.

“That you wake up… maybe not comfortable, but _right.”_

“Oh,” Arthur murmurs and moves his knuckles to rest on John’s knee, "John…”

“That ain’t meant to guilt you or nothin’,” John grumbles, lowering his gaze to their point of contact, the warmth of the older man’s hand.

“I didn’t take it that way,” Arthur assures the younger and taps his knuckles on John’s thigh.

John stares seriously down at the hand then looks up to Arthur’s face.

Arthur smiles slightly at him, brows still drawn together.

“What do you think Dutch would say if I wanted to go back to wearin’ dresses?” John whispers, “Actin’ like a woman?”

The older man’s face twists in confusion.

“Why?”

John lifts a hand to rub at his jaw nervously.

“Easier, I suppose.”

“Would you go back to your old name?”

“Anne?” John’s nose wrinkles, “I dunno.”

“Maybe just in public?”

“Would you still call me John?”

Arthur feels a little heartbroken at how nervous John sounds.

He twists his hand around to grab one of the younger’s then squeezes firmly.

“Whatever you need.”

John takes in a deep, steadying breath and slowly folds in on himself before flopping to lay parallel with Arthur.

“You really doin’ this?” Arthur murmurs and rubs his thumb over John’s.

“I’m sick of bein’ scared, Art,” John whispers, “And if I’m fine the other way? More convincin’?”

Arthur looks over his friend’s face then collects the younger in his arms and cradles John until the sun is high in the sky and they need to make their way home.

\--

They’re in smaller numbers currently, and it makes things a little easier.

John still shakes carrying the trunk into Arthur’s tent a week after their talk.

The older man glances up from his journal and raises a brow at the trunk.

“What’s that?”

“Abigail helped me… Gather a wardrobe.”

Arthur’s face goes slack in shock and he studies the younger’s expression and body language hurriedly.

“Okay,” Arthur says softly and stands up from his cot, “What d’you need me to do?”

“Just… I _don’t know,_ I just don’t want to do this alone.”

“Sure,” Arthur soothes.

John sets down the trunk and kneels in front of it while Arthur goes behind him to tie the canvas flaps closed.

Abigail had been an immense help, in finding simple styles of dress in neutral colors that John didn’t think he’d want to claw off of his skin while wearing.

Some simple jewelry, items to do his hair.

No makeup though.

Arthur hovers to the side then goes back to perch on the edge of his cot as John pulls out the layers of a summer set.

“Shit,” John grumbles and starts undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“You want me to close my eyes?” Arthur asks hesitantly.

John pauses, frowns, then shakes his head.

“You ain’t gotta,” The younger says.

Arthur watches John as the younger strips out of the masculine clothes and slips into the chemise and drawers.

John frowns down at himself for a moment and then unlaces the drawers and tucks the chemise in.

“Looks like a union suit,” Arthur jokes tentatively.

“Yeah,” John murmurs then straightens up, repeating himself a little firmer, “Yeah.”

John grabs the light, cotton top that buttons up the back, and the full, long one-layer skirt.

He pulls the shirt on, slips the skirt on to sit open at his hips, and looks up at Arthur.

“Can you help me?”

“‘Course,” The older man says, stands, and gestures John to come closer.

John walks over then turns his back to Arthur, pulling all his hair to the front of one shoulder.

Arthur’s hands settle on his hips to straighten the fabric and then work their way up the line of buttons.

“Fits you well,” Arthur notes.

“Just had to find the smaller sizes,” John jokes.

“You’re gonna have to grow this out,” Arthur murmurs after he does up the last button and combs John’s hair back into place as John fastens the waistband of the skirt.

“It’ll still go up as is,” John says and moves back to the trunk to grab a tube of pins and a slide.

He moves to crouch in front of Arthur’s shaving mirror and messily shoves his hair into an updo, some of the shorter pieces around his face falling free.

He glares at his own reflection then forcefully softens his expression.

He turns to face Arthur.

The older man is scanning over John in the younger’s entirety.

“You good?” Arthur asks.

John lowers his shoulders to lengthen his neck and breathes slowly, tilting his head and smoothing out his skirt.

“Surprisingly, yeah,” John admits.

“You look good,” Arthur says hesitantly, “I mean you don’t look like you’re dyin’ inside over it.”

John presses his lips together and swishes the skirt side-to-side, his socked toes curling against the grass.

“You think I’m pretty, Art?” John teases quietly.

Arthur huffs and looks away, but the expression on the older man’s face has John’s head tilting curiously.

“You do.”

“I always do,” Arthur mutters, “You’re just a pretty kinda person.”

John’s face smooths in surprise momentarily before the younger straightens up and offers his hand to Arthur.

“Anne Marston,” John introduces himself.

Arthur’s lips twitch in amusement and he bows, cupping John’s hand to kiss the younger’s knuckles.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

\--

John wears feminine clothing almost every day the rest of that week after explaining his decision to the gang.

He still sticks close to Arthur, only really feeling comfortable with the older man.

Things turn sour when John, Dutch, Arthur, and Hosea go into town to collect some supplies and information.

John gets cornered by a persistent gentleman who insists on complimenting ‘Anne’ and holding John in place by the younger’s arm.

Until Arthur comes into the store to check what’s taking so long and feels fury alight within himself.

“Excuse me,” Arthur says, physically and verbally getting between them, displacing the older man’s arm and curling his own hand around John’s waist, “You alright, Darlin’?”

John swallows thickly and covers Arthur’s hand on his waist with his own, squeezing his thanks before ducking his head and nodding.

The old man is subject to one firm glare from Arthur before scattering, allowing the two outlaws to finish their shopping and meet back up with Dutch and Hosea.

John’s quiet the rest of the trip.

\--

When they get back to camp all the supplies are unloaded and John’s struggling to keep his cool.

His chest feels tight under the stays and his stomach won't stop churning.

He hovers between his and Arthur’s tents waiting for the older man to finish sorting supplies.

After Arthur finishes and heads towards his tent catching sight of John he feels his heart clench in worry.

“John?” He asks quietly as he gets closer, the younger looks up sharply and then slips into Arthur’s tent ahead of the older man.

Arthur glances around, then follows.

John’s standing dead center in the tent, and this close Arthur can see the younger’s form trembling.

“Oh, John,” Arthur murmurs and carefully pulls the younger close to his chest, cupping the back of John’s head and resting his chin on the younger’s crown.

“I’d forgotten how shitty that feels,” John says hoarsely.

Arthur squeezes him lightly.

“He was askin’ me if I had a husband or whatever and I wanted to say yes but I didn’t…” John shoves his forehead into the older man’s chest, “Could only think of you, and didn’t wanna drag you into it.”

“John, you do you whatever you need to stay safe, you know I’ll always try and be there but if I ain’t,” Arthur pulls back slightly and lifts John’s face up by the younger’s chin, “You say whatever you gotta.”

“Little worried no matter what I say, they ain’t gonna believe me,” John mutters.

“They might not,” Arthur admits, and John smiles at him tiredly.

\--

It happens again, two weeks later in a different town.

\--

It happens again, a month after that in a different _state._

\--

The breaking point happens when a man tries to follow John out of the town and Arthur intercepts with two bullets.

\--

John sits curled up on Arthur’s cot as the older man paces slowly the width of the tent.

John sniffs and rubs at his own temples before letting his head fall forward onto his knees.

“The whole point of this was so you’d feel safer,” Arthur mutters.

“I do, in that way, now I’m just scared in a different way,” John mumbles and rolls his neck to peek up at Arthur.

The older man sighs quietly and scratches the stubble on his jaw.

“There’s a reason the women don’t often go into town, ‘specially not alone,” John says.

“You think it would make a difference if you were married?”

“What, you mean a ring?” John’s brows furrow and he straightens out his left hand, looking at his fingers, “Yeah, maybe.”

Arthur stares at the younger, considering, and then moves to rifle through his satchel.

He comes over and sits next to John on the cot, facing the younger.

“If you think it might help… here,” Arthur says and opens his hand with a gold ring sitting in his palm.

John blinks widely at it in surprise.

“... What?”

Arthur moves the ring up to his fingers and rolls it around before holding it out to John who tentatively takes it.

“Wear it, use my name, if it might keep you safe,” Arthur says firmly.

“Arthur…” John swallows thickly and twists the band before slipping it onto his ring finger.

Arthur lifts his hand, hovering, before awkwardly tucking the messy, escaped strands of hair behind John’s ear.

“I just want you to be safe.”

\--

John avoids going on errands for the next month but wears the ring constantly.

It took a couple of days for the gang to notice and a couple of _hours_ to get Dutch to believe John wasn’t betrothed to some random man outside of the gang.

Then Dutch gets a grand idea and formulates a plan around John and Arthur pretending to be married.

\--

It’s a two-day cruise up and down the river, where husbands gamble and wives gossip.

John feels like a prettied up piece of shit.

There are more lace inserts and silk ribbons on both his undergarments and his dresses than he’s seen in years.

The corset digs in uncomfortably at first until he bitches about it and Abigail helps him yank at the laces.

He currently has his arm hooked into Arthur’s as they’re introduced as the Callahans.

Arthur and Anne Callahan.

\--

Dinner is uneventful and John hardly touches the food.

The women and men split for respective nightcaps.

John perfects his polite laughter and survives the hour-and-a-half of gossiping about people and things he doesn’t know of.

He makes his way to their room and Arthur’s already on the balcony with a lit cigarette.

“How’d it go?” Arthur asks softly.

John shrugs, closing and locking the door then moving to join the older man on the balcony.

“My part ain’t nearly as important as yours,” John mumbles and leans on the rail, stretching his spine.

“But nothing eventful, right?”

“Nah. You talk to the guy?”

“Yeah, real friendly fella, bit of a drunk.”

John snorts and snatches the cigarette, taking a hit then holding it back to Arthur who rolls his eyes and finishes it off.

Arthur’s taken off his jacket and vest, tie and suspenders abandoned, leaving him only in slacks and a half-undone button-down.

John’s instantly envious.

“C’mon,” John says and heads back into the room, “Help me outta this.”

Arthur comes up behind him and huffs a laugh.

“Where do I even start?”

John rolls his eyes and reaches for the buttons at his nape.

Arthur catches on and starts slipping each round bead out of the loops all the way down to John’s tailbone.

John undoes the buttons at his wrists then slips the dress off his shoulders and lets it drop to the floor.

He hears the slightly-sharp inhale from the older man, and glances back over his shoulder.

The style of underwear he has on is extravagant, meant to be prettier than it is functional.

Mostly sheer, fine linen with lace inserts and lots of ruffles, the chemise with thin ribbons holding it up and a light cream corset cinching his waist, highly-modern shorter bloomers rather than drawers.

Garters holding up his stockings.

“Can you get the laces?” John asks softly and Arthur looks up to meet John’s eyes.

John’s a bit floored by the warmth there.

“Yeah,” Arthur says roughly and ducks his head to focus on loosening the corset.

John tries not to squirm at the goosebumps forming down his arms.

It doesn’t take long for Arthur to finish and John has a brief moment wondering how many times the older man has done this.

“There,” Arthur murmurs and steps back.

John holds the corset up and goes to his suitcase to dig out his nightshirt.

He turns around to face Arthur, who’s staring at the bed, leaning against the footboard.

There’s a partition in the corner of the suite and John considers going behind there for a moment before shrugging off the idea and setting the nightshirt on the bed to undo the hooks on the front of the corset.

Arthur glances over to see the corset come free and John to be standing, wearing something that, in all honesty, is scandalous to be seen, since they aren’t actually married.

John sets the corset on top of the suitcase and Arthur gets a good view of the younger’s ass framed by lace paneling.

John stands back up and faces Arthur who studies the younger’s face.

John pulls the pins out of his hair and sets them on the nightstand behind him.

“You comfortable like this?” Arthur asks hesitantly, gesturing at John’s body.

John tilts his head then sticks out one foot with a low-heeled boot.

“‘Sides these.”

Arthur’s eyes flick over him then nods at the bed.

“Sit.”

John quirks a brow but lifts himself onto the high mattress.

Arthur comes to stand in front of him then kneels.

John’s feet hang a few inches above the ground and Arthur takes up the first foot to remove the boot, followed by the other.

The older man reaches and sets the boots to the side of John’s suitcase then comes back to kneel.

John’s watching him with a pronounced raise and lower to his chest.

“Arthur?”

“Hm?”

“Take my stockin’s off.”

Arthur’s brows lift in surprise before smoothing.

The older man grabs behind John’s knees and pulls the younger closer to the edge of the mattress so he can undo the clips on the backs of John’s thighs.

Then the ones on the fronts.

Arthur scoots down the lace garters then carefully pulls off each hose.

John’s hands are clenched tightly beside his hips.

“Stand up,” John whispers.

Arthur stands.

“Untie the ribbons,” John orders.

Arthur reaches to finger the silk ribbons on John’s shoulders.

“These?”

John nods sharply, a flush spreading over the younger’s cheeks.

“You sure?” Arthur murmurs.

When John nods again he pulls at the bow until it gives and hangs loose.

The chemise only held up by the bow on the other shoulder.

“The other one,” John insists softly.

Arthur rubs the silk between his thumb and forefinger then tugs and the bow gives.

The fabric falling and pooling in John’s lap.

John takes a deep breath in then tilts his head back to look up at Arthur.

Arthur’s eyes trail from his hips up to his eyes.

John scoots back on the bed and lets his legs hang open.

“What is this, John?”

“What, not interested in fuckin’ your wife?” John whispers teasingly but Arthur can see the anxiety in the younger’s eyes.

Arthur swallows and glances down to his ring, _Mary’s_ ring, on John’s finger.

“That what you wanna be? My wife?”

John closes his eyes and nods and lays back.

“You wanna be John, my wife, or Anne, my wife?” Arthur asks as he crawls onto the bed, hovering over the younger.

“John… Your wife, John,” The younger whispers, not opening his eyes, “Yours.”

“Spread your legs,” Arthur says gruffly.

John lets his legs splay open easily, ever-grateful for the flexibility he retains in adulthood.

“You wanna be a good girl… Or a good boy?” Arthur asks as he grazes his knuckles up John’s inner thigh.

“Shit,” John hisses and curls his fingers into the duvet, “Both.”

“Alright,” The older man murmurs and leans down to press his lips to John’s, causing the younger’s eyes to fly open.

Then close, slowly, as Arthur deepens the kiss and John feels like he’s melting.

He brings his hands up to finish unbuttoning Arthur’s shirt pushing at the older’s chest until he gets the hint, backs up, and strips the shirt off, tossing it to the side.

John’s hands curl around the sides of Arthur’s hips, fingers digging into the softer spots, as soon as the older man is back over him.

They kiss slow, dirtier and dirtier as time goes on.

More grabbing, hair-pulling, lip biting.

John gasps quietly against the older man’s lips when Arthur’s thumb and forefinger curve to frame one side of his chest.

“You good?” Arthur pauses to ask.

John opens his eyes, breathing quickly.

He stares up at Arthur for a moment, genuinely trying to find an answer.

“John?” Arthur asks worriedly.

“Try it,” John rasps, “I don’t know.”

Arthur hesitates then gently cup’s the younger’s chest, brushing the pad of his thumb over John’s nipple.

The younger bites hard on his own lower lip and arches his back, pressing his chest into Arthur’s touch.

“You like that?”

“Yeah,” John whispers.

Arthur hums lowly and lightly rubs at the younger’s nipple before leaning in and pressing his lips to John’s neck, leaving a line of open-mouthed kisses.

“Damn,” John murmurs and squirms, “Arthur?”

“Hm?” Arthur rumbles against his neck.

“Want you to fuck me,” John admits quietly.

Their gazes meet then Arthur bites lightly at the top of John’s chest.

“How?”

“What?”

“How, John, do you want me to fuck you?” Arthur teases, voice rough.

“God,” John hisses and moves to sit up, forcing Arthur to stand.

John slips off the bed and quickly undoes the laces on his underwear, shoving them and the chemise off of his body.

John settles his left hand on Arthur’s chest, fingers carding through the thick hair there.

“Like you own me,” John murmurs, tapping the older’s chest with his ring-adorned finger, “Like I’m yours.”

“Are you?” Arthur asks quietly, “Mine?”

“Have been, for a while, I think,” John admits.

Arthur’s hand curls around John’s and he lowers his mouth to kiss the ring on the younger’s finger.

John squirms and closes his eyes when Arthur’s mouth moves up to graze his own.

“Get on the bed.”

“How?”

“However you want,” Arthur says.

John hesitates then crawls to kneel in the middle of the bed, lowering his chest to the mattress and burrowing his face in his crossed arms, ass in the air.

He hears Arthur cursing and the shuffling of fabric and boots on the wood floor.

Then the bed dips and he feels the mattress shifting as Arthur crawls up behind him.

John spreads his legs a little further apart and the older man’s fingers run along his slit.

“Which hole?” Arthur asks and John laughs quietly, a bit taken aback by the concern.

“Cunt,” John says, muffled by his arms.

One finger dips into his cunt, slipping easily through the slick and quickly followed by a second finger.

John presses his hips back into the touch as Arthur’s other hand moves to play with his clit.

John groans quietly.

“How long you thought ‘bout this?”

“Bein’ fucked like a bitch, in a bed, on a _boat?_ Never,” John deflects.

“Jesus,” Arthur hisses and curls his fingers down into the soft spot inside of John, “You know what I meant.”

“Too long,” John mutters, “So, please, _get on with it.”_

Arthur snickers quietly and adds another finger.

John shudders and shuffles his knees to tilt his hips into the touch.

“Hah-” John gasps as Arthur's fingers twist and spread inside of him before relentlessly pressing against that soft spot, “Holy shit.”

Arthur hushes him and moves his fingers faster, harder, as his other hand's thumb plays back and forth over John's clit.

John turns his head and bites down on the meat of his forearm to muffle the desperate cries trying to escape him.

His hips are twitching with each hard flick of his clit and he's _trembling_ he's so damn close.

And then Arthur stops.

Both hands leave him abruptly and John chokes out a sob against his skin.

“Art?” He murmurs in confusion.

“How often you touch yourself, John?”

John's brows furrow in confusion and he glances to the side but he can't quite see Arthur.

“... Why?” John asks quietly.

“Gonna play a game, John,” Arthur says softly, and brush the back of one finger over John's clit making the younger inhale sharply.

“What,” John swallows and shifts his knees a little further apart, “What’re the rules?”

“S'long as you keep answerin’ my questions, I'll keep touchin’ you.”

John mumbles his complaints briefly only for Arthur's fingers to frame and then gently pinch his clit.

“Oh, _Christ,”_ John hisses and presses back into the touch

“So... How often?”

“Uh… Whenever I can get alone, I guess.”

“Oh? Not often, then?”

John squirms, rather than replying.

Arthur's fingers pull back until they're just a ghost of a touch.

“Shit, _no,_ more often than you'd think,” John whispers.

“When you findin’ time?”

“Whenever you're out on some job or errand,” John says, nervous and hushed.

“Why when I'm out?” Arthur's voice is lifted in genuine curiosity.

“Cause… Cause the gang'll leave me alone if I'm in your tent. They all think I’m only in there cause I'm missin’ you.”

Arthur's silent behind him and John can feel himself tensing in his anxiety.

It builds the longer the silence lasts.

“I… Shit, Arthur, m'sorry. I know that's… I dunno, actually, just not good,” John whispers frantically and starts to lift himself up, aiming to crawl away from his guilt when Arthur's hand curls around his hip and halts him.

“You touchin’ yourself in my tent?” Arthur asks, voice gruff.

John inhales shakily and hums an affirmative.

“You gettin’ off in my bed?”

John clenches his fingers in the duvet and nods sharply.

There’s a block of silence again and John tries to keep his breathing even while his heart is beating too fast.

Arthur's hand clenches on his hip and John doesn't mean to flinch but he does anyway.

Arthur hushes him and soothes his other hand down the younger's spine.

Then those fingers travel down his ass and three of them slip back inside of him.

“What you thinkin’ ‘bout when you're in my cot?”

“I… Uh…” John shifts anxiously, clenching around the fingers.

“You think ‘bout me?”

“... Yeah.”

“What’re we doin’?” Arthur asks in a murmur as his fingers start to stroke along John's inner walls.

“God, everything.”

“Everything, hm? What you think ‘bout most often?”

“Bein’ on my knees for you,” John rolls his hips back hesitantly, “Whenever you want me, however, wherever.”

“Oh?”

“You tellin’ me to drop to my knees at your feet while you're sittin’ by the fire, and, God help me, I do,” John whimpers at the thought and rolls his hips as Arthur's fingers start pumping in and out of his cunt.

“In front of everyone?”

“Front o’ Dutch, usually, other faces are a blur but he's always there,” John admits, barely above a whisper, “If I'm blowin’ you it's just the idea of him bein’ shocked. You stakin’ a claim. He thinks I'm his, I ain't.”

“Damn,” Arthur mutters, hoarse, and pulls John's hips back towards him while sinking his fingers in deep and curling them inside, getting the slick sounds to fill the room.

John trembles under his touch and twists his fingers in the fabric.

“But sometimes you make me get in your lap, hike up my skirts and slide inside, makin’ me face everyone as you fuck me,” John whimpers the last words as Arthur’s thumb starts circling his clit.

“God, swear you just got even wetter,” Arthur hisses and grips John's hip tight enough to bruise.

“You don't let me hide, yank my hair so I have to look forward, keeping me from covering my mouth and I can't ever seem to shut up,” John gasps and squirms.

“You ridin’ me? Am I makin’ you fuck yourself on my cock in front of an audience?”

“Yes, God, _yeah,”_ John cries out softly and his legs tremble as his gut clenches.

“You gonna be a good girl and come for me?” Arthur murmurs and moves his hand from John's hip to his cunt so he can rub the younger's clit in harsh, quick circles.

“Fuck,” John bites out and moves his hand underneath himself to feel Arthur's fingers sliding in and out of him as his slick drips onto the duvet, “Ah, shit, Art, stop.”

Arthur takes a second to process then stills abruptly.

“John?” He asks worriedly.

“Just,” The younger whispers, “Shit…”

Arthur pulls his hands back slowly and hovers uncertainly.

“Art,” John begs, “Please, _please_ get inside me?”

“Jesus,” Arthur grunts, “You scared the shit outta me.”

“Please,” John whispers, “I need you to fuck me. I… I-”

The tone of the younger's voice gives Arthur pause.

“Talk to me, John,” Arthur murmurs and gently prods the younger until John turns over onto his back and faces the older man.

Arthur's expression crumples at the fearful look on John's face and the way the younger is cringing away.

“Please?” John pleads with his eyes clenched shut.

“Shh, hey,” Arthur hushes and shifts to hover over the younger, gently brushing John's hair back with his pinky.

“Shit,” The younger whimpers and brings a hand up to cover his own face.

“What'd I do?” Arthur asks softly.

“I… I don't…,” John takes a shaky breath in, “I want _you.”_

“What's that mean, John?”

“I,” John hisses in frustration, “I wanna be yours.”

John opens his eyes and they're glossy with unshed tears.

The younger brings his hands together and twists the ring on his finger.

“Not pretend, Art, I want to be _yours,”_ John whispers, “John Morgan, or Anne Morgan, whatever you want, I don't _care.”_

The younger sniffs and looks down at the ring before looking away.

“I love you,” John mutters, resigned, “I do, and I'm tired of keepin' that.”

Arthur stares at the younger a bit wide-eyed in shock.

John sniffs and rubs at his eyes and refuses to look at the older man.

Arthur fails to speak, can't quite find the right words, so he leans down and presses his lips gently to John's cheek.

The younger goes stone-still.

“John… I…” Arthur whispers, _“God._ Look at me.”

John swallows hard then looks up at Arthur who smiles gently, but serious.

“You are mine, and I'm yours, alright?” Arthur murmurs then brushes their mouths lightly, testing.

John lifts up to press into the kiss, his hands going up to cup Arthur's jaw.

Arthur slows their pace and savors every ounce of affection he can feel from John, returns it in equal measure.

“Arthur,” John pulls back from the kiss, “Please…”

“Alright,” The older man murmurs and presses their lips together once more before pulling back to step off the bed and rid himself of his drawers.

John sits up on his elbows to watch, chest tight with emotions, swirling and suffocating him.

Arthur gestures for him to move up to the head of the bed and then follows after him, settling between John's thighs.

He gets John to wrap his legs around the older man's hips and lines himself up before leaning down to look John in the eye as he slides in.

The younger gasps, looking up at him with wide eyes as Arthur seats his cock deep in John.

“Holy shit,” John whispers in shock at the feeling of being full before experimentally shifting his hips and clenching around Arthur’s length.

Arthur rumbles a groan at that and ducks his head into John's neck.

“Ah,” John gasps as he tilts his hips and he feels even fuller somehow, “Arthur.”

“You alright?” The older man murmurs into John's neck.

“Yeah,” John huffs a quiet laugh, “God, yeah.”

Arthur scrapes his teeth over the corded muscle and shifts his hips back slightly before pushing his cock a little deeper.

John bites down on a loud gasp and reflexively grabs at Arthur's forearms.

"Arthur," John whispers, "Move."

"Alright," Arthur pressed his lips to John's skin and starts to rock his hips.

John squeezes his arms and crosses his ankles behind the older man's back.

The move together, in a slow and easy rhythm, John starting to grind his hips up with each thrust, to feel Arthur as deep inside of him as he can.

John lets go of one arm to feel where they're connected and run his fingers through his own slick, using it to ease the friction as he rubs his clit.

"God, Arthur," John moans and his walls squeeze around the older man's cock.

Arthur's rhythm stutters and the older man pants quietly into John's neck.

"Want you… To come inside," John whispers hesitantly.

"What?" Arthur asks as his head reels back in shock.

"I-" John glances away and digs his heels into the backs of Arthur's hips, "Come inside me."

"John…"

"I know, _I know,"_ John mutters.

"You sure?"

The younger closes his eyes and turns his head into the pillow before rocking his hips up.

"Shit," Arthur says on an exhale.

Repeats, as he picks up a faster, harsher rhythm.

Small, thready sounds escape John, half caught in the younger's throat as each thrust hits home.

John starts saying his name over and over like a mantra or a prayer and Arthur has to duck his head and bite at the crook of John's shoulder as the younger's fingers falter.

John clamps around him, hips twitching, and Arthur reaches between them to circle John's clit until the younger is riding a second orgasm.

“Shh, you’re doin’ so well, bein’ such a good boy,” Arthur murmurs.

And rubs, as John begs for Arthur to fuck him harder and tears are leaking, running across his temples into his hair as he sobs and shakes through a third climax.

Arthur moves both hands to John's hips and squeezes tight as he bottoms out and groans into John's neck, coming inside the younger.

"Oh fuck," John whimpers, rocking his hips aimlessly against Arthur's.

Arthur presses his lips across John's face to meet the younger's mouth.

Arthur moves to pull back but John tightens his legs and the older man looks down at him curiously.

"Don't pull out, not yet," John pleads.

"God, alright," Arthur groans and rolls them over carefully so John is perched in his lap.

Arthur lets his head fall back on the pillow under him and he watches the younger, squeezing John's hips and rubbing his thumbs over the younger's stomach.

John shifts carefully and traces the edges of his cunt, tilting his hips to the angle where he feels the fullest and placing his other hand on Arthur's chest for support.

John slowly rubs his clit, thigh twitching and cunt clenching with each stronger pass.

"C’mon," Arthur murmurs and rocks John's hips down forcibly.

John chokes on a whimper and lifts himself up enough for Arthur's cock to slip out and for himself to sit a little forward on the older man's lower stomach.

Arthur watches with a groan as John plays with himself and each clench has a dribble of the older man's come pooling on Arthur's stomach.

John runs his fingers through the mess of come and slick then brings it up to cover his clit.

He digs his fingers into Arthur's chest and rubs himself quick and hard, gasping and begging desperately.

Arthur's hands tighten on his hips then he's yanked up to sit on Arthur's shoulders as the older man's tongue licks a long stripe from the back of his cunt to his clit.

Arthur alternates between sucking on his clit and dipping his tongue into John's cunt, cleaning up their collective mess.

John's hips twitch as Arthur brings a thumb into the mix and firmly rubs over the younger's clit.

"Arthur,” John gasps, “Please, _please?"_

The older man pulls back, tilting John's hips to see the younger's cunt clenching and relaxing with each harsh pass over John’s clit.

"Go ahead, Darlin'."

John's hands clench on his own thighs, nails digging in as he comes, begging quietly, eyes shut tight.

Arthur slowly eases the pressure then scoots John back down, getting the younger to lay forward onto Arthur’s chest.

John shoves his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck and shoulder as he tries to get his breathing under control, fingers trembling where they’re holding the older man’s upper arms.

Arthur interlocks his fingers and rests them behind John, at the base of the younger’s spine, as he presses his cheek against John’s temple.

He can feel the cool metal of the ring around John’s finger pressed against his skin.

A promise he can’t quite get himself to say aloud, but pictures it, embedded in the gold.

A material vow.

**Author's Note:**

> hhghgghghghghgh i'm both of them


End file.
